


Tales From Dis

by Kanonite



Category: Original Work
Genre: 1990s, 90s, Action, Alien protagonist, Aliens, Blood and Gore, Captivity, Edgy, Female Protagonist, Gen, Gore, Hope, Horror, Humiliation, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Mental Anguish, Nudity, Objectification, Outer Space, Rescue, Sci-Fi, Science Fantasy, Sexism, Slavery, Stripping, Strong Female Characters, Violence, War, retrofuturism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-10-29 21:18:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20803142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kanonite/pseuds/Kanonite
Summary: A rookie technician for the Cosmic Sovereignty get's her first taste of space battle, but the heavily mounting damage to the vessel prompts her and several others to take escape pods to the desert world of Dis, where it turns into a struggle against the unwelcoming natives.





	1. First Deathployment

It was to be just a few more minutes till they were in combat distance of the enemy fleet. She and the rest of the repair crews had been ordered to prepare themselves and their equipment, then report to the hangars. 

She did not know what she was in for, but she was not naive either. CosmoSov's callous attitude to the lives of its own people was well known, and part of her training involved extracting mangled corpses of pilots from the self-returning fighter craft, then cleaning and fixing the cockpit for the next unlucky sap, as if nothing happened.

But what kept her going was that old war-goer adage of "That couldn't happen to me!", which she recited over and over in her mind amidst ship schematics and procedures, that and telling herself to give it her best, so she can get to see her father again.

Eventually, the intercom announcer came on.

"ALL CREW MEMBERS! TO BATTLESTATIONS"

Which was her and the others' cue. They stood up and walked single-file in their khaki vacsuits to the hangars, other crewmen and women rushing past them to their own posts amidst the grungy corridors of the CSSF Chernobyl.

The group arrived in the hangars, donning the clear-visored helms attached to their bulky backpacks, a precaution if the hangar forcefield went out and they were spaced before the shutters could deploy. They could already see the pilots rearing to go while they took their positions on the sidelines, as being even in near proximity of those engines could spell burns, vacsuit or no.

"You ready for this, Moren?" The senior engineer asked her, looking upon the taller, green-skinned rookie with 3 pairs of judging, beady eyes.

"Yeah...Ive been recitin' schematics since I got here!"

"You don't sound completely confident, though I suppose that is normal for your age."

"Yeah...I will do my best, though, sir!"

"I don't doubt your marks, Moren."

The Stregon nodded and turned her attention back to the departing fighters, the blue flames of their engines kicking up strong wind before launching out into the great void. The young techie wondered what it would be like to pilot such a powerful machine, only to remember her father's disapproval at her taking any combat positions. She understood why he felt that way, but she could not help but fantasize.

The ongoing battle outside felt and sounded seemingly non-existant where the engineers stood, up until the first casualties' craft reentered the hangar, canopy completely blasted open with a gooey mixture of red blood and organs. As the repair crew grabbed their tools and approached the craft for repair and clean-up, they could see the blasted open remains of the pilot's lower body, causing one of the rookies to gag.

Wanting to prove herself, the green-skinned girl shouted "DIBS" on the blood spattered legs, taking a deep breath before grabbing them by the torn strands of fabric and pulling them out, carrying them to the large and lovingly marked "Parts Bin" nearby.

As it tumbled in, the first of what was likely going to be many, she felt like she did good, even if it did get under her skin a bit....moderately...ish. She took another deep breath as she made her way back to the craft, trying to cope by just telling her mind to pretend like she was back at the shop with Dad, fixing cars.

Another crewman was nice to quickly gather all organs so far in a neat pile for easy disposal, which she promptly did, telling herself that it was "Just parts, just non-working parts."

She kept it up until the cockpit was fully cleaned and a replacement canopy set...then they moved right on to the next. More blood, more parts.

She felt a bit of a sickness by now, but nothing major, the guy that gagged took it worse and straight up hurled in his suit, thank god for windshield wipers.

When they got to the fifth fighter, something rocked the ship, and then another time.

"Alright crew!" The Senior spoke up. "Were gettin' hit! If we go down, I want all of you to be ready to BOLT if that's the case."

"Not enough escape pods for everyone, right, sir?" She asked.

"Well...yeah."

Then...another hit, this one far harder then the others, one that caused the emergency lights to turn on. The old man called it.

Without a word, the repair crew broke into a sprint to the escape pods, the Stregon sprinting ahead of most of them in an adrenaline high. Like many others, she did not want to die here, though she did hope that the others would make it, at the least.

She darted past the pancking crewmen, seeing grunts shooting civilians on the way to make room for themselves. Was this really the "Glorious" army she had signed up for?!

She managed to luck out and locate a mostly empty escape pod, quickly hopping aboard and finding herself with two soldiers pointing rifles at her, who, upon seeing the sex of their fellow passenger, lowered their rifles. It was then she actually noticed the headshotted corpse of a male engineer from another crew, blood bubbling from his visor while his body twitched.

But...she didn't care. This was her way out, and one of the two soldiers just slammed the eject button. Without a word, she buckled herself and was ready to run away from these guys as soon as possible.

The pod blasted off and found itself barelling through the atmosphere of the world below which the conflict was occuring, eventually crashing hard onto what felt like sand.

The two hand gestured for her to stay where she was while they assumed a breaching position in front of the doors, which they wrenched open and emerged out of, surveying the area  
The two did not seem to find anything, but as they made their way back to the pod, a gun shot echoed out and one was thrown to the ground, his armored trenchcoat stopping the bullets while his buddy aimed his gun frantically for any hostiles as another gunshot was heard, flooring him as well. But...when he fell, he landed on something in the sand, which... turned out to be a monofilament mine which quickly ripped them apart, turning the sands as red as those cockpits.

Throughout all this, the young woman stared paralyzed, unsure of what to do.

Then, an ungodly, massed howl could be heard as scores of what appeared to be bandits, shot out of the sand and rushed cackling to the escape pod. They ripped her from her seat and dragged her into the burning desert sun, cheering. She wanted to run, to fight back...but there was just so many.

They threw her onto the ground in front of a man even larger than her, clad in heavy scrap plate and holding an uncharacteristically pristine pen and notebook.

"Strip her." He said, coldly.

His pack of hyenas set about slicing the vacsuit off of her with a highly disturbing level of experience, until there was not an inch of clothing left on her.

"Hoist her."

They lifted her up, and the pencil pusher approached her while she tried to tug her way out of her captor's grips.

With an insulting level of indifference, the heavy-clad ringleader felt up every "Desirable" part of her body, making notes on his pad with remarks like "Impeccable muscles", "E Cups" and "Virgin" before gesturing for one of the goons to slap a collar on her.

"NO!" She let out weakly, tears streaming down her eyes as the exploding neckgear was placed on her and she was dragged into a buggy. 

She was at a loss of thought, her eyes and chin twitching as she tried to comprehend the sheer horror of her situation...


	2. Getting Ones Bearings

She stared emptily as they ferried her to her new "Home", their convoy joining up with several others who had CosmoSov gear and slaves in tow, some of the latter even male, made up mainly of ripped and/or fine featured rookies judging by their faces.

She then got a better look at her captors. Well-equipped, well-organized. If this planet had a governing body, these guys seemed to be, unfortunately, the upper echelons.

The drive took about an hour before they reached the outskirts of what looked like a city, it's black spires hidden behind a transparent, protective dome and an incredibly high wall.

The convoy pulled up to a guard camp near the gates, the pencil pusher rising from his own ride with a megaphone in hand. "TRIBUTES FOR WARLORD KREXX!" He bellowed repeatedly, so that everyone could hear him.

The gates opened and they were driven to another camp, this one on the other side of the cities' entrance. There, they and the intact CosmoSov hardware were off-loaded, the Pusher handing a lead guard his and his crews' notes on the haul. The other figure went about examining each bit of merchandise personally, and it was then the Stregon woman learned that the Lead Guard was a woman, which one couldn't tell from her full combat armor.

Eventually, she herself was approached and asked. "YOU! JUGS! Name and former occupation!"

"O-Ofisa Moren, CosmoSov Hangar Technician!"

"Well, Moren, with tits like yours you seemed more "Navy Hooker" to me."

She did not answer.

"Take her to the prison! She's a prime cut!" The other woman gestured and the guards went to collect her, putting a black bag and chain-linked cuffs on her, before carting her and the others to a a truck. As she was herded, she could hear one of the younger captives behind her shout "FUCK YOU" before getting hit with the butt of a rifle and gunned down rather unceremoniously. She could not tell if someone was still daring to resist, or this was a show to ruin the hopes of everyone else.

As she sat herself down, and she heard others in the same level of despair as her, screaming and hoping this was all a dream, she broke down too. Quietly, she sobbed into her bag, tugging at her restraints while playing back what had happened to her in just a few hours, thinking how she might never see her father again, what happened to the rest of her crew, and how she must have been so selfish for running ahead.

But then, as the ride went on, a loud pop was suddenly heard and the truck veered off violently, tires screeching as it tipped over and what sounded like people shouting, followed by a gunshot, could be heard. Then...someone approached them, ripping the bags off their heads. They were armored too, but of a different, less menacing design, one with a paint job that was reminiscent of...a taxi cab!? They brandished lockpicking omnitools to rapidly free everyone of their collars and shackles, before yelling at them to go into unmarked armored trucks, which she did without hesitation.

As the truck's back door was closed and it sped off, she wondered who their rescuers were.

"Allo!" A thick, funny-accented male voice came on the nearby speaker. "You're probb'ly wunderin' wos' goin' on! Well...were the Cab Company, one of the few cunts who still remember what life was like here! You got a choice now, stay and fight with us against these bastards, or hitch a ride offa 'ere when the fightin' above stops!"

The vote was almost an even 50/50, with half wanting to stay and half wanting to leave, only her answer remained...but she was unsure. The others looked at her for the last vote.

"I...don't know...I'm just a repair lady...I'm not some...resistance fighter...but...I cannot sit idly while somethin' like this is goin' on! Where do I sign up?"

The "Stay" crowd cheered her, with Ambivalence from the "Leave"'s.

She felt like a boulder was off her shoulder, and it was the best she's felt all day...


	3. It's Safe Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After being rescued from a life of slavery, Ofisa wakes up and explores a Cab Company bunker.

She slept like a corpse, surprisingly dreamless too given yesterdays' events. The room she awoke in was barren and concrete, yet she was free to walk out at any time. The 'Company had given her some clothes, a black CosmoSov tee and a pair of black cargo shorts with ample pouches. Turns out that the Taxi look was only for when they wanted to make an impression, otherways it was inconspicous, but reinforced clothing and the occasional body armor.

Now that she got some rest, it was time to get to know the bunker she was in more fully. Standing up while fighting off fatigue like in boot camp, she did several stretches and basic exercises. While her species did posses natural musculature, she and others with the same trait were never given preference over those who had to build mass.

With that done, she stepped out into the main crew quarters, shielding her slitted, red eyes as she opened the slightly ajar door and the light stung her.

She could see two, survivors, a woman and a feline boy her age, chatting to her left, talking about how horrified they were about what CosmoSov's troops did to the non-combat crew during their bailout.

"Hey, uhh..." She nervously greeted, approaching them. "Were you also on the CSSF Chernobyl?"

"No." The woman answered. "CSSF Polonium."

"Fuck...things weren't so different on mine."

The other woman let out a sigh. "My condolences."

"Yeah...there's somethin' else I wanna get off my chest."

"With your rack, Im surprised, but go on."

"Im worried...about my dad. You see...my mom wen't missin' when I was about two and he had about no one else since. Even though Im stayin' here, I wanna know if there's some way to send out a message, just to let him know I'm alive."

"Zohnny over here's asked the same question. Turns out they keep any out or incomin' video signals to a minimum, Krexx's goons can track 'em. That means that yeah, no TV unless you happen to have a tape on you."

"So, what about old fashioned mail?"

"Need a courier for that, and that's a no-go right now, with the whole scrap going on in orbit."

"You think CosmoSov is gonna come pick people up?"

"Uhhh...you sure you've been in the right navy? CS is content to let us rot as long as they get what they came here for, the pods were just a formality."

"That...really sucks."

"No shit!"

"Well...I'm off to sight-see, be seein' ya."

"You too, E-Cup!"

That remark shook her, reminding her of that very hands-on "Inspection" yesterday, in turn prompting her to vacate the conversation in panicked sprint, stopping in a remote corner to compose herself. This must have been the "Shellshock" she overheard some of the vets mention on-board. If remembering a groping felt this horrible, she could not imagine full on rape.

Several deep breaths later, she stepped out to continue her exploration, arriving in the cafeteria. Maybe a breakfast would do her mind some good.

She walked in, and the area looked like just the one in the training facility. Getting in line, she took stock of what was on offer, which turned out to be a mixture of scavenged army rations and junk food. Though the thought entered her mind, she wasn't gonna piss on hospitality. After ordering a bland meat ration, some "XXXXTRA SSSSSSSALTY!!!!!!!" potato chips, and a glass of recycled waste water, she went to grab a seat.

The chips alone were enough to soothe her aching soul, as much as they really made her want to down the water in a single swig and ask for seconds if not thirds. She wondered how she could contribute, as the bit of combat she's seen so far was a waking nightmare. Maybe her repair skills could be useful? 

Yes. That was it. She just hoped they had the positions open...


	4. Going Up

After some asking around in the cafeteria, she was directed to see the Bunker's overseer. As she entered the makeshift office, she could see the mauve-skinned humanoid in all his macho glory, booted feet propped on the table and puffing on a cigar. 

"Hey, uh..."

"Whatcha want?"

"Well, I'm new here and I was told to see ya if ya got a job for me."

Upon hearing this, the man lowered his legs. "Oh, what was your job before all this?"

"Repair Crew. Got assigned to throw body parts into disposal."

"Gearhead, huh?"

"Yeah..." She answered with uncertainness in her voice, horrific worries entering her mind about him potentially asking for or even forcing her to do "favours" like some of the guys at boot camp wanted. She knew not all guys were like that, but with yesterdays' events, it was hard not to think that way.

She then added "I just...wanna be seen as more than just a big rack, you know?"

"Oh, I get that. Respect is earned, not demanded 'round here." He explained, standing up. "Lemme show you to the munition factory."

She breathed a sigh of relief as he led her to the modest workshop, poorly lit barring the workbenches, at which workers in khaki jumpsuits and welding masks toiled tirelessly to forge munitions and armor for the Cab Company.

"Hey fellas!" He shouted to them. "Got some new meat for ya. Says she worked on a repair crew."

The worker to her left beckoned her over "Il' show 'er the ropes, boss." That sentence put her at unease again, but it wasn't worded in the typical "Playful" manner.

She walked over to him and looked at what he was working on. Nail Gun ammo, thick and nine inches long. Goddamnit.

"Okay, so...where do I start?"

"You can start with watchin' me work. Then we can get to work with you buildin'. If you forget a step, make sure to tell me."

"Gotcha. Lead the way."

For the next few hours, she watched him turn scrap metal into Nails, putting them in bulk into large, square ammo crates.

He paused, and turned to face her. "You got it?"

"You bet! Could make that in my sleep."

"In that case, go to the quartermaster and tell her Lopp sent you, shel' give ya a onesie, a mask and somethin' to make sure those things on your chest don't get in the way.

"Got it!"

She stepped out of the workshop, following the signs for "Armory" until she arrived at a counter with "Korrtrmastr" written in salvaged, unmatching neon letters. And behind the counter was a purple-scaled reptilian woman clutching a bottle of whiskey in her right hand.

"Hey. What can I getcha'."

"Lopp sent me. Said you could outfit me with some mechanic gear?"

"Oh, right away!" She set the bottle down below the counter and rushed off to a backroom, emerging with a pair of combat boots, a khaki jumpsuit, welding mask, large-sized sports bra and a handgun with two spare and full magazines, setting them all down.

"Here ya go! All ya need to start workin' here!"

"Thanks! Where do I change?" 

"Well, were kinda devil-may-care about bein' naked, so just find 'yerself a corner and get dressed.

With a sigh, she did as she was told, looking for and finding the same dark corner she retreated to earlier today. Acting quickly, she stripped off, then donned the gear given to her, no one noticing her, much to her own relief.

She emerged suited, booted and ready to shoot it, walking back to the workshop, where Lopp was still busy at work.

"I'm here!" She told him.

"Good. Start makin nails."

"Yes sir!" Without further ado, she joined him in manufacturing ammo, having nailed, no pun intended, his technique quite well from her short stint of observation, resulting in him nodding approvingly and telling her "You will be a good part of the team."

She felt...good, and after a few more hours, retired to the cantina for some more rations and junk food, and then to her room, zipping her suit down slightly and sitting with a deep breath, her confidence renewed for the most part.

Yet she could not help but wonder if it will all go south soon, like it did with the ship...


End file.
